Chapter 335: Heading to Brokilon
The Druid Circle was a druid settlement, a town of sorts. As such, it naturally had merchants. Outside currency was still valuable here; even druids couldn't completely detach from the secular world. They needed to interact with the outside, and that meant they needed money.
Armed with his magic-infused pouch, Lynn went on a massive shopping spree at the Druid Circle, buying every vial of druid potion he could find. Unlike a witcher's mutagens, druid potions could be used by ordinary people.
While they came in fewer varieties, they still included potions for healing wounds and strengthening the body. These potions would be useful for future apprentices. Before they underwent the Trial of the Grasses, their bodies couldn't handle witcher potions, but injuries were still inevitable. With these druid potions, their training would be far more efficient.
After two days at the Druid Circle, the trio departed for Kaer Trolde Port and then sailed away from Ard Skellig. As Ard Skellig grew smaller and smaller in the distance, Lynn told the captain to not go to Novigrad directly, but to instead land at Kaedwen's capital, Kaerack.
The Northern Kingdoms' attitude toward witchers wasn't like Skellige's. So, Lynn had purchased two long black cloaks that were enough to hide him and Gerd, making them virtually unnoticeable to others.
Only upon closer inspection would people spot their cat-like eyes hidden in the shadows of their hoods. Mousesack, meanwhile, kept his appearance unchanged. A druid could go anywhere in the world. Even in The Witcher 3, when sorcerers had become targets of mob hatred, druids were still as respected as ever.
The three walked through a bustling marketplace, where their attire didn't draw any strange looks.
"Why did we get off the boat here?" Mousesack asked, confused. "Wouldn't it have been faster to sail straight to Novigrad?"
"It would have," Lynn replied, "but we're not going to Novigrad."
"We're not? Then where are we going?" Gerd was surprised. He had assumed they would land in Novigrad and then follow the Pontar River to its tributary, the Lyriana, which would lead them straight to the base of the Blue Mountains.
From there, it would be a short trek to Kaer Morhen, deep within the mountains. This was the fastest and most convenient route. Without the river, they would have to travel by land, which would take much longer.
Lynn nodded, acknowledging that Gerd was right.
"Don't worry," he continued. "We're going to Brokilon first."
Brokilon was the territory of the dryads, the original inhabitants of this world and the guardians of the forest. They were an all-female race who loved nature, especially forests, which they considered their own. For centuries, the dryads had fought against dwarves and elves, who had all tried to force them into submission, and all had failed.
Then humans arrived. Brokilon Forest once spanned across what are now the human kingdoms of Verden, Brugge, and Kaedwen. But as humans encroached, trees were felled and forests were burned.
Brokilon was reduced to what it is today. As a result, dryads harbored an extreme hatred for humans. Any man, woman, or child who dared cross Brokilon's border would be met with a swift, fatal arrow shot from the shadows of the trees, just like the corpse that lay before Lynn now.
The dead man was between thirty and thirty-five years old, though his haggard appearance made him look far older. He wore a tattered shirt of rough linen that was dirty, smelly, and worn out. His hands were calloused, a sign of constant physical labor.
"Looks like a runaway peasant," Gerd said, kneeling to inspect a fallen satchel next to the body. The contents were pitifully sparse: a few pieces of dry bread and some scattered copper coins.
Gerd sighed. "Back when I was in the Duchy of the Curved Shore, traveling and taking on contracts, a lord once sent his men to find me. He wanted me to help them track down peasants who had escaped his lands." Gerd shook his head. "This man was probably caught and killed by his lord's men."
Lynn shook his head. He didn't agree with Gerd's assessment. "No, that's not how he died." To prove his point, he stood and gestured to an arrow lodged in a pine tree a few yards behind the body. "The attacker fired two arrows. The first was a warning, telling him to turn back. He misunderstood." Lynn's face was grim. "So the second arrow took his life."
"Are you saying a dryad killed him?" Gerd's face filled with disbelief. "But he wasn't a soldier in full armor, and he wasn't armed with a sword. He was just a civilian."
Lynn continued to shake his head. "Dryads don't care about any of that. It doesn't matter if you're a frightened boy of fifteen, lost in the woods. It doesn't matter if you're a frail seventy-year-old, driven from your home and scavenging for firewood. It doesn't even matter if you're a six-year-old child attracted by the flowers in a forest clearing."
"Anyone who dares to enter Brokilon's territory is met with a single outcome: death."
The dryads' actions were extreme, but Lynn could understand them. The continent was huge, large enough for all races to coexist and develop in peace. But some foolish humans insisted on clamoring to kill all dryads and burn all forests. And many others blindly followed. It was no wonder the dryads viewed all humans who entered Brokilon as enemies.
Mousesack sighed. "In the past, the dryads of Brokilon would give two or even three warnings, not just one."
Lynn snapped his fingers, and a flash of fire consumed the body on the ground. "You can wait for me in that village we just passed through. I'll meet up with you no later than the day after tomorrow."
Gerd looked unhappy. "Don't talk like that. We've been through too much together. Do you think I'm a coward?"
Mousesack chimed in. "Druids and dryads are, strictly speaking, on the same side. If anything goes wrong, I can help smooth things over."
With that, the three of them continued their journey into the forest. Despite the encroaching human presence, Brokilon was still vast.
Sunlight filtered through the dense canopies of the towering trees, illuminating the young birches, alders, hornbeams, raspberries, juniper, and ferns below. Beneath their branches lay a carpet of dead leaves, rotting branches, and the fallen husks of ancient trees.
Normally, places inhabited by such creatures would feel oppressive and ominous, but this was not the case here. On the contrary, Brokilon was teeming with life.
Insects buzzed, lizards scurried beneath their feet, beetles shimmered with iridescent colors, thousands of spiders crawled across webs glistening with dew, woodpeckers hammered against tree trunks, and grouse chirped incessantly.
(End of Chapter)
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